


Worn Torn Lipstick and Ripped Skinny Jeans

by Minione



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Dad to the rescue, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Secrets, Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:25:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minione/pseuds/Minione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chance meetings, will have Piper on head but will she keep it together, when a person she thought she would never see comes in to her life. "I knew I would never meet him, my father but I hoped he was ok at least." Who is her father and what happens when they meet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worn Torn Lipstick and Ripped Skinny Jeans

**Author's Note:**

> Ok here is the dealio I don't own anything apart from Piper and Ariana. My Chemical Romance are sadly not mine *cries in a corner* and neither are the songs used in this fan fic. =)
> 
> Now with out farther a do I introduce War Worn Lipstick and Ripped Skinny Jeans.

_Piper's Point of View_

As the last line of the song ended I felt lost, of course I could just repeat it on my IPod but what was the point in that. Sighing to myself, I rolled over on to my back and tried to sleep but as always sleep wasn't playing nice this morning with me. "Who needs fucking sleep anyway? It's not important," I mumbled to myself.

I hate when I can't sleep because:

1\. School plus no sleep equals a shit day at school. Well more than normal.

2\. I looked like a fucking vampire pale face, dark eyes or black depending on what day of the week it is.

3\. I daydream about my mom and dad and why my dad left me with my mom.

Another turn of my body and I'm facing my bedroom wall or basement wall.

What can I say my mother isn't mother of the year material, she always blames it on my dad but come on how much can you blame on a guy you haven't seen in what? 16 years. It's the drugs she takes and alcohol she drinks 24/7 and her fucked up boyfriends she gets on a daily bases that does it to her. That fucks up her mind so she can't think or function.

Mom told me the whole sob story one day when I was 8. Mom and dad were madly in love with one another, and then I came along. Mom says my father was ecstatic, when he found out that mom was pregnant and was willing to give up everything just to be with my mom, but my mother being the psychopath she is up and left him. Just like that because she was scared one day 'he would have ran away.'

That's why I'm glad for him. He's out free to be what ever he wants, me I'm going to be still stuck in this small town working at the supermarket or dead. Both are better than becoming my mom.

I still think about how my life could be worse then I looked at my roof again, drowning in self despaired. I'm not going to sleep again not today, not with my thoughts running the way they were. It was a losing battle that I didn't even want to attempt again after going though it night after night. Rolling out of my bed I checked my bedside table and found my watch, it read 5.45am another early rise.

Great, I thought with an eye roll. Stumbling out of bed and hitting the wall hard with my shoulder "Fuck" I said under my breath trying not to wake my younger sister who was still asleep. Only 3 feet away from me. Rubbing my shoulder as I stumbled up my stairs and hoped that one of my mother's "boyfriends" hadn't locked it this time.

Slowly turning the handle hoping to god that it wasn't locked and that they hadn't locked me in trapping me again. When I heard the sound of a click my shoulders sagged in relief. "Fuck! Thank god." I said quietly to myself as I slipped out and went to the kitchen.

It was really weird we had been living in this house for about two years, but I hardly knew any of the rooms up stairs. I mostly spent most of my time either out of the house or in my basement heaven with my little sister.

Going to the kitchen I stopped at the entrance to a room in any other normal house, would be a lounge room but in mine it was a dump. Littered with food scraps, food wrappers, bottles and other thing I didn't even want to guess at. Looking over at my mother I knew she was wasted, with another guy half strewn across her lap, naked.

I had to make sure she was still alive so I made my way across the room. Carefully choosing where to stand avoiding the old pizza and the needles that were littered on the floor (no wonder I freaking hated needles.) You never walked anywhere without shoes in my house.

She was breathing, one good point and as I roughly rocked her she grunted. So she was alive that was good enough for me, and I got out of there quickly as I could. She disgusted me to the point I couldn't be in the same room with her. It hurt that she couldn't even get clean to look after my sister and I.

It hurt so much that she had left my dad because she was paranoid and that she blamed me for being born.

Walking to the kitchen I turned the jug on, as the jug was boiling I brought my IPod out and set on low and turned the shuffle on. So My Chemical Romance became playing that settled my nerves and calmed me down.

I snickered to my self.

How is it that one band can calm me down and make me feel more loved than my own mother did? Making sure to be quiet so I didn't wake my younger sister Ariana, I started humming the bass chords and occasionally singing the backup when I felt like it. I love my sister very much but I didn't want to have to deal with her crying this early in the morning, it was like six.

My young brown-eyed 2-year-old sister was adorable. Dark brown locks and cute laugh could melt the hardest heart. I was thirteen when she was born. Growing up my whole life in my mother's care I knew she wouldn't be "fit" enough to look after a baby (she can barely look after her self at the best of times). So I said she was my kid, no one believed me at first, but after a while they all just assumed she was mine.

It made it easier on everyone if they did think Ariana was mine. It also helped that I hardly ever went to school in seventh grade. It kept CPS off my back and mom's in away also. I wouldn't survive in the system, not without Ariana. She keeps me ground, something to live for or more importantly to die for if it came down to it.

After I finished making my morning coffee I sat and drank it with ' _Face down_ ' playing in my ears losing myself in the music, letting it sooth the wounds that my insane mind had brought up. How was my father all right? Was he well off? Did he have a family of his own now? Did I have half brothers or sisters? Too many goddamn questions, too early in the morning.

Growling to myself as I finished off the rest of my coffee about the stupid questions I had thought of, I went back to my basement and got ready for the day. Placing my IPod on the dock (which had cost me three months of working at the local dinner just to pay off), and turning it on. The (shipped) Gold Standard by Fall Out Boy came blaring out causing Ariana to stir in her bed.

Quickly dashing back to the dock to turn the volume down, fearfully looking at the sleeping child, only two feet from the now low playing speaker. She just rolled over and kept on sleeping with her hand on her cheek. Slowly walking over to my cardboard and quickly selected the cleanest clothes I had with my favorite hoodie.

I ended up wearing my pair of black skinny jeans which had rips in both knees with my ' _smart is the new gangster_ ' shirt and my ' _Dead!'_ hoodie, then I slipped on my fingerless gloves, with my black and white converse shoes that I had written all over in white-out, to finish my outfit. Walking to the adjoining bathroom and grabbing the hairbrush and going to war on my hair with ' _Bittersweet Symphony'_ playing in the background.

My black hair was limp after I had brushed it a gazillion times, now applying the hairspray and mousse to make it look halfway decent with a simple black headband to complete the hair ritual.

After applying a little make-up (eyeliner and mascara.) I was ready.

It was now fifteen minutes to seven and I felt like a walk in the early morning was great. So I went to wake my younger sister Ariana Nikole Lee Iero, (I picked the name myself).

Ariana means holy one and it's Italian, and to me she is holy and is my second chance at everything. She was a gift from god that saved my life because if it hadn't have been for this little girl I wouldn't have been here, I would have been 6ft under a long time ago.

Walking back to the adjoining room and to the little single bed across from mine was my little sister. I gently woke her. She slowly rubbed her eye and the expression on her little face was quite comical. It was a look of _'you'd have a good excuse to wake me up, otherwise I'm going to scream this basement down,'_ and I laughed. Then she gave me an ear spiting smile and then a small yawn.

With her little display of cuteness and charm, my mood was lifted.

Picking her up I murmured to her, "Hello baby girl. Did you sleep well?" Her doe eyes just smiled at me as I took her to the kitchen in the hope for something edible to be available for breakfast.

Heading to the nearest shelf and looking at our options, well there really were no options. Out of date Lucky Charms, like really out of date, three years out of date or moldy bread that looked like it had been left in the toaster and turned on for five days straight.

"Well Miss Ria, there is nothing to eat here…so the dinner it is." She gave me another dazzling smile. I sigh quietly to myself, why doesn't mom care?

Walking back to the basement humming the bass for, "For a Pessimist I'm Pretty Optimistic" by Paramore while dressing Ariana for the day.

Her striped sweater did not want to play the game. The stupid thing kept getting tangled in everything (especially her legs for some reason my darling sister believed would be funny to kick them up in the air.) Resulting in me tripping over countless times, trying to avoid a foot to the face. Her blue jumper was a little better, because at this time she had given up trying to kill me with her feet. Alongside her cute black jeans, gloves and a hat to keep her from catching a cold.

Then I grabbed my wallet, my black messenger bag and her bag and looking in it to see if I had all the toys she liked to keep her preoccupied, which thank god I did. I quickly looked to see if I hadn't left anything of my own behind as I made my way up the stairs with Ariana on my hip, the bags flung over my shoulder.

Walking slowly to the front door trying to remember if I had forgotten anything because I didn't plan to come back for the day maybe even staying away for the night as well.

Remembering that I had band practice later on, I hastily dropped the bags and went back to the basement with Ariana merrily laughing at me.

Placing her on my bed I went on a hunt for the bass and pick. Picking up my bass guitar, then running around the room to find the mysterious black pick, which had decided that it was going to vanish on me. Sorting through the pile of CDs, which were all black as well, finally finding it. Just sitting there, I would've thrown it if I didn't need it. Breathing heavily, I went to pick up my sister.

Glowing at the pick in my hand, my sister placed her tiny hand on my cheek.

Looking down at her I noticed my actions hadn't gone down well with my younger sister, not at all. Her eyes had a glassy look to them and her posture was rigid with worry and unshed tears.

For a two year old she picked up on a lot of things, like my moods and emotions.

She put her thumb in her mouth and started to suck it profoundly in a rapid motion, her lower lip quivering.

Breathing deeply, calming myself down to the point I could talk without my voice quivering. I worked on calming my distressed sister.

"Hey Ria, what's up?" As I was talking I was slowly rocking back and forth. Her lip stopped quivering, and she looked at me with a look of interest.

"I was pretty stupid wasn't I…?" Looking at her her eyes had cleared up and the sucking of her thumb had slowed down.

"Yer, I made a bit of a mess didn't I?" The look she gave me was hilarious, half between an eye roll and puzzlement.

"Yep your sister is a crazy son of a bitch!"

At this she stopped sucking her thumb and giggled at me, I gave her a look of mock hurt.

"Come on, let's blow this Popsicle stand and get some breakfast. Yer? "

She gave me a little clap and I walked up the stairs to the front door and load up. Deciding against carrying Ariana, I grabbed her pram. I shoved her toy bag under the pram and placed my bass over my shoulder as well as the messenger bag.

Deciding that I hadn't forgotten anything else I picked up the keys to the house. Glancing briefly at my disgrace of a mother feeling disgust and sadness well up in me, taking over all my emotions.

Quickly hiding them so not to upset Ariana again I shook my head and walked out with Ariana in her pram and headed toward the local dinner in hope of some breakfast.


End file.
